


Harder to Breathe

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki makes an offhand comment to Natasha and must suffer the consequences for not thinking before speaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolves_and_girls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolves_and_girls/gifts).



> Based on this scene from The Wolf of Wall Street: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4Kkunxsv1A  
> For Jessy, who's having a heck of a long day and I thought she definitely deserved some smut to come home to.   
> Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

She had been driving him mad for the last month and a half.  And not just figuratively, but he was certain he was, legitimately, going insane.  Voices, hallucinations, a lost track of time and day, everything.  Granted there was no one to blame but himself, and for that Loki scowled as he fell back into his empty bed, his chest heaving from having had to get himself off in the shower, again, for what felt like the hundredth time since his self-imposed exercise in abstinence. But honestly, it wasn’t intentional.  He hadn’t meant to piss her off, or to offend her with his comment about how he didn’t think that the last mission Natasha and Barton had gone on was a very good idea because he’d rather she’d have been home than waste her time.  

Needless to say she’d taken it the very worst way, having said, very coldly and collectedly, that if he wanted her around the house more often then all he had to do was say so.  Her eyes he could see perfectly as he closed his own, having been sharp as diamonds as they fileted him alive, the demigod swallowing nervously when she’d stared him down and backed him into a corner.  She’d asked him why he’d kept quiet for so long if he was dissatisfied, one of her hands running down his chest, and though the attention would have normally gotten him rather hot beneath the collar in the moment it had only petrified him, even more so when she reached down to undo his belt and pressed her hand down his trousers, cupping him and squeezing just enough to make him lose his breath.  

The memory alone, the last time she’d touched him, was getting him hot again, and he cursed her as he took himself in hand--again.  From then on, after she’d withdrawn from him with the promise that she’d be around more often she had hardly left the house.  In some ways he’d rather she had, and in others he might’ve killed anyone else.  

She’d told him, from then on, he wasn’t allowed to touch her, not allowed kiss her, or even so much as take her hand in his.  He’d thought she was bluffing, admittedly, knowing he got her just as hot as she did him.  And then the skirts had started, short enough she might as well have not been wearing anything, displaying more than enough of her long legs to get his mouth watering, the swell of her well-toned backside and legs only accentuated further by the thin, sky-high stilettos she’d taken to wearing along with them.  The first time he’d tried disobeying her order to not touch her, had taken her by the hips and pressed his nose into her bright hair, breathing her in and telling her how gorgeous she looked, he’d been on the floor a second later with the stiletto pressed into his neck, allowing him a more than generous look up her skirt.  She wasn’t wearing any panties.  

He moaned as he felt himself coming again, the liquid covering his chest as he groaned and shoved a pillow over his face to shout into it with his frustration.  How much more of this was he expected to endure?!  He could all but hear her voice in his ear, promising him that he would never so much as lay another finger on her until she was ready, the threat and power behind her voice only turning him all the more on and making him want her more than he thought possible.  Perhaps he’d escape to Asgard, evade this torture she felt necessary to inflict upon him.  He’d tried apologizing, after all, having gotten on bended knee in front of her to say how sorry he was for everything he’d said that had offended her.  She’d shrugged it off, walking away with a swish in her hips that he missed gyrating atop him as her breasts bounced in front of his eyes and her lips parted in an ‘o’--.

Dammit all.  He cleaned himself up and flipped onto his stomach, hard cock rubbing against the soft sheets, rutting into them like a hormone-driven teenager who’d just gotten his first peek at a woman’s breasts.  Damn her.  Damn him.  Damn everything.  

 

Three months passed and Loki spent them entirely in agony, hardly trusting himself to move any further than his floor, though Natasha always found ways to sneak in so that he’d have to interact with her.  Each time she was pleasant, though he had the worst time focusing on what she was saying and not how badly he wanted to pull her into his bed and beg her to make love to him, to tie him up and ride him--anything she wanted.  More often than not she brought food with her, the plate warm and enticing, allowing her to bend over and set it on the desk across the room from him so he got a good peek up her short, short skirt, her bare backside begging him to be paid attention to.  

One positive about the torture, he thought wryly whenever she’d leave and he’d have to evacuate to the bathroom. He’d never been so clean, having taken at least two to three cold showers a day in an attempt to stave off the need to bury himself so deep inside her they’d never get him out.  Ever.  

 

By the fourth month he stopped coming out of his room for anything but the utmost of emergencies.  Not that it ever really mattered, he could hear Natasha’s breathy moans in the silence and stillness of it, no matter how loud he turned the music that Jarvis provided, could feel the phantom heat of her body as it pressed hard against his, could taste the peppermint gum she loved to chew before they had sex because it always made his lips tingle.  He wasn’t sure if a man could die from a lack of sex, but it sure felt like it.  

So when his door opened one evening, the other Avengers having disappeared for another call to assemble, he wasn’t expecting Natasha to saunter through, having assumed she’d be gone with them.  It was, after all, her job.  

Neither of them spoke for some time, their eyes meeting as Natasha leaned against hte door, one leg bent, smooth and tantalizing.  

“Are we having fun yet?” She finally asked, voice dry and sharp.  He swallowed hard as he sat up on his elbows on the bed.  

“Not in the slightest,” he answered honestly.  What was the point in lying?  

“Good.  You still want me to stick around the house all the time?” She asked, stepping a little closer.  He felt his heart jump into his throat as he sat up fully.  

“Yes--but!  Not like this.  You’re bored, I understand, and it was wrong of me to criticize your work.  It will not happen again.  I was simply jealous and it was entirely my fault, I’m sorry.”  He said, words coming out so quickly he nearly stumbled over them in his haste to get them out correctly.  “Even if you don’t wish to be intimate again I know you’re bored and I’m sorry that I forced you to impose this on yourself as well as on me.”  

She came nearer, her arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow rising.  What could he say?  He’d had a lot of extra time to think about the ways he’d beg her forgiveness.  Again.  Not liking that he was at a disadvantage by laying on the bed, or the way that he was already hard at just her being there dammit, he started to stand.  Her hand shot out and pushed him back down onto the bed, laying him down.  

“Take your pants off,” she said, the order quiet but followed immediately, the offending garment disappearing from his body.  His cock, now freed, stood erect and flushed, already dripping precome.  He watched her eyes focus on it before looking over at Loki.  

“You mean it, about what you said?  Your apology?  Because you owe one to Clint, too,” she murmured, sitting beside him on the bed and wrapping her fingers around him, sliding them slowly up and down.  The pressure, heat, and familiarity of her hand already had his back bowing off the bed, his words shamefully whispered.  “Yeah--yes, I do.  I’ll apologize to him the minute he gets back.  Promise.  I swear it.”  He was babbling like a fool, unable to stop as she slowly swirled her thumb around his head, making his jaw clench and stars flash in front of his eyes.  

“You sure?”

“Yes, please--Natasha please please please.”  His voice went a little higher, turned more pleading, as her hand tightened around him, forcing him to swallow hard and blink furiously as he looked over at her, licking his lips.  With her free hand she was slipping her shirt off, her other hand leaving his cock in favor of slipping out of the arm hole.  She wasn’t wearing a bra and for a moment he thought he actually had died from a lack of sex and this was simply heaven, or else he was hallucinating her there beside him.  She smirked to see his eyes go so wide, to watch him lick his lips in anticipation, the color in his cheeks high, before she moved to straddle him.  Now he was certain this wasn’t really happen--.

“Oh by the nine, ah!” Loki shouted, unable to stop himself as she slowly sheathed herself on his length, inching down until she was flush against him.  He reached his hands up to feel her, touch her, make sure she wasn’t going anyway, but she swatted them away, smirking as she pinned them to his side.  Her hips jolted with the movement and the softest whimper escaped Loki’s throat at the sensation of her clenching down around him, warm and tight and better than anything he’d ever experienced.  Ever.  

“Mmm, be a good boy for me, Loki,” she purred, leaning over to kiss him hard on the lips, licking into his mouth as he melted beneath her, bucking his hips up as she started to ride him.  Her breasts slid against his shirt every so often and he willed it away a moment later, skin burning as hers touched his.  “You can do that, can’t you?”  Keep your arms right at your side.  Don’t touch me, or I’ll stop,” she said, her eyes flashing dangerously as she pulled away, pressing one of her hands to his chest as she palmed her breasts with her other hand.  Not about to go against her, he nodded and watched, mouth open and dry, as she rode him as quickly as she dared, her own head thrown back in pleasure as she tightened around him again and again.  He sang her praises, doing his best not to move as she lost herself to the pleasure, and when she did eventually come, her heat pulling him even further in, it was all he could do not to join her, not trusting that he wasn’t supposed to.  

A smirk twisted her full lips, her blue eyes filled with mirth as she looked at him.  The hand that had previously been massaging her clit for the last couple minutes brushed against his cheek before she stuck her thumb into his mouth, moaning when he sucked and swirled his tongue around it without question.

“I could just keep you like this for days and you wouldn’t complain at all, would you Loki?” She asked, voice soft, affectionate, as he leaned into her touch and shook his head.  No, he really wouldn’t.  Not at all.  So long as she wasn’t mad at him he didn’t care.  

It turned out she wasn’t that cruel, taking up moving her hips around him once more, but whereas the first time had been hard and quick paced, a means to an end, this time it was slow.  Affectionate.  She leaned down to kiss him and press their bodies closer together, moving his hands to her hips so he could feel the way her muscles undulated above him, and when he did finally come he never felt closer to her, his shout cut off by just how gorgeous she looked atop him, her own face contorting with pleasure as she finished with him.  She collapsed atop him, body still trembling from the aftershocks, and carefully, slowly, he ran his hands up her spine as he pulled to the side and kissed her shoulders, collarbone, and throat as gently as he could.  

“I love you, and I’m sorry for being such a brat,” he whispered against her skin, feeling her shiver.  

“Just don’t do it again and we’ll be alright.  I’d hate to punish you again, because believe it or not that sucked for me, too,” she teased, leaning up to look down at him, brushing a stray strand of black hair out of his face before kissing him hard.  He couldn’t have agreed more, humming his consent against her lips as he snuggled closer and the pair fell asleep together.  


End file.
